Robert was on his way to the thirtyyear class reunion. He hadnt seen his old mates since they all left school, and hed been too busy for a catchup. After leaving secondary school he headed straight for university in Leeds, then landed a job in Manchester, and eventually set up his own tech firm in London. The business had its highs and lows, but it paid the bills nicely.
Every now and then he felt a pang of nostalgia and would scroll through the alumni group on Facebook, liking pictures of old friends and posting a few of his own. One face kept popping up, though: Molly. Robert had a soft spot for her back in the school days, but shed never given him the time of day. Hed once tried to impress her with a bouquet, only for her to leap onto Adams motorbike without a glance at the flowers, roar off down the high street, and leave him standing like a fool. He never tried again; he watched her disappear into the haze of traffic, thinking perhaps he should have asked her to join him on a ride. He didnt.
Robert didnt have a tight-knit circle from school hed spent most of his time hitting the books. Only a handful of lads whod slogged through extra maths lessons with him were still on his radar. He arrived at the reunion in high spirits, a neatly wrapped package for each former classmate tucked under his arm. Hed remembered everyone, even the quiet ones.
The venue was a cosy café in a converted Victorian shop, full of the clink of mugs and the low hum of old jokes. Laughter bounced off the walls as they reminisced about schoolyard antics. Roberts eyes kept drifting to Molly, who was perched at the far end, glued to her phone. After all those years shed married Adam, but theyd apparently split up some time ago Robert learned she was now raising a chronically ill child on her own.
He decided to strike up a conversation, only to be met with a sharp outburst.
You live in a fancy house and think you know what its like to struggle! she snapped. I saw the pictures of your manor. Your wife never works, just hops from one salon to another. Youve got a staff of maids you never show us. My kids are studying abroad, while Im battling my sons illness. What could we possibly talk about?
Is it my fault youre having a bad day? Robert asked, trying to keep his tone even.
In this country theres barely any money for sick children, yet people like you sit on piles of cash and act greedy! she retorted.
Robert felt his blood boil he hated that topic being dragged into a reunion. He had a reply ready.
How many sick children have you helped, Molly?
Im the one with a sick child! And yes, I sometimes send a text asking for a handout.
I regularly donate sizeable sums to charities, but I never make a spectacle of it. So whos really doing more good here?
Its simple for you you dont lose a penny by handing over a hundred grand. My help counts more, because Im literally giving from my own pocket. Do you know how I earn my money? I take two buses each morning to work and collect spare change!
A few onlookers shifted uncomfortably; some nodded in Mollys favour, the rest kept quiet.
When the evening drew to a close, Robert slipped his gifts onto the table and asked the waiter to hand a small envelope to Molly. He walked out, mulling over the nights awkward drama. Theyd all had the same starting line and similar talents. Hed simply chosen books over afternoons of drinking bitter ale in the back garden, chosen study over the tempting lure of a corner pub, and swapped a local college for a prestigious university. Hed taken a risk, left his comfort zone, and built a business from scratch.
Hed stumbled, learned hard lessons, celebrated wins and endured losses. It wasnt his fault that some of his old classmates now led lives he couldnt understand, pointing fingers at his success as if hed stolen their fortunes. He hadnt; hed earned them himself.
How many of you know a Molly, or a bunch of old schoolmates who love counting other peoples money? Sure, some were lucky enough to be born into welltodo families with good education, but there are countless stories of folks from modest backgrounds, with parents who never finished school, who made it on their own grit. In the end, its all down to the choices we each make.
